Look, some people are Summer-poopers and they only want to focus on how it’s gonna be the F-word pretty soon, and I’m like are you kidding me? It’s Summer! What the hell is your problem?

Sure, I am totally the goddamn Grasshopper in the fable about the Grasshopper or whatever that enjoyed Summer while the Ant Worked Hard to be able to do what, enjoy Winter? No offense, but do you know how many more clothes you have to wear in the Winter? Hey, howabout working all Winter to enjoy Summer, hah? Did you ever think of that, Ant? Yeah, exactly. Don’t get all Aesop on me while I am Enjoying Summer, man, I’m not the one counting how many less minutes of daylight is at the end of the day, I mean Jesus, Mary, and Watermelon, man, do you know how many mega-factors times Infinity that kind of Thinking is in terms of being a Half-Empty Glass of Water-arian? Negativity, man, it has no place in my Summer, you know?

I’m gonna grill a whole chicken on my grill, man, outdoors in the Summer! My kitchen won’t get all smokeyed-up and I won’t have to go after the smoke alarm with a broom handle, you know? Summer! Out-of-doors stuff! Corn!

And seriously, look at all this indoors stuff going on right now with those bozos in the Stock Market, do you know who much more depressing this would all be if it was Winter? I can watch Big Brother XIII out on the porch and not even get pissed-off about Julie Chen’s blabbering when it is the Summer, you know? Summer is about Positivity, not Counting Down until the End of Fun! I might even go to the drive-in movies this weekend, wowee! You can’t do that shit in the Winter and expect it to be Good Times, you know? When you go to the Drive-ins it doesn’t matter what the movie is because you are at the Drive-ins!!! The Power of Summer! Bring bug spray, though.

Meanwhile, I am not disparaging on any other Season you may care to enjoy. Spring is lovely, the Autumn has crisp air and stylish new jeans to fit your butt, Winter has... Aah, wait: Fuck Winter.

All’s I’m saying is Summer is the only one where people can’t wait to be all Debbie Downer with their Facts about how much less hot it is getting (even taking into account Global Hottening) and the less daylight, and then the Big FU to Summer, the Back-To-School bullshit. What is it with this BTS Industry, man? They (and you know who They are) already got the clowns on the “Today” show squawking about goddamn School, and the going back to it! I ain’t never going back, man, it’s Summer! Why are you Harshing on the Mellows of so many Schoolchildren, many of whom are only now shaking off the effects of Scholastic Incarceration, when all they wanna do is be roasting a marshmallow while sitting around a Summertime campfire? That’s some kind of Child Abuse, really, to be cranking out the BTS Propaganda in the second week of August, Summertime. Save it for Labor Day weekend, you know?

There is way more sweating to be done, more skin to spray sunblock on, more weenies to roast, more ice cold beers to slide into Koozies, man, don’t listen to all those Ants out there telling you it’s over, OK? Nothing is over! Go, Summer!

Mr. Wrong can converse with you via many medias.

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I’m glad all the Basketball and Hockey (assuming the Riots are over) is done and now we can focus on Baseball, not because of Sports, but because Baseball = Summer, and Summer is my favorite. I know you know Summer is only three months long,* but when it’s really happening the right way, it is endless, eh? You know what I mean, like, no offense to those other seasons, but unless it's a negative thing (as in: “Man, that day last winter, when I beat up all those cops and went to jail, that was a long-ass day”), there are no days that last as long as Summer ones, and that includes the nights, because that’s a big part of Summer too, just because you're outdoors way more enjoying your day, right?

Yeah, Summer kicks ass, and I don’t care how hot it gets, man. I mean, I dunno if it’s Global Warming or whatever but where I am, it’s been over 100 degrees already a couple-three days and the corn isn’t even as high as an elephant’s eye or whatever equals later in the summer, and I will still take that over a Crisp Fall Day or goddamn Winter where it gets cold.

Summer! Less clothes!*** More fruits and vegetables that don’t come from Chile!**** And my favorite Summer driving activity: listening to other people’s car radios because Summertime is when people tend to drive around with their windows down so you can hear their Boomin’ System, and I know a lot of people are bothered by all the sub-woofing out there, but I dig it, except when the vehicle emitting all the sub-woofs is a little raggedy and all the trim and license plate and stuff are all sympathetically vibrating with the bass notes, but even then it’s kinda cool trying to identify which parts of the car are getting shook by the inaudible.*****

And the Booze of Summer, man, wowee, “Summer Booze, makes me feel fine,”****** you know? Arrooo! Summer drinkles are a mega-kabrillion times better than all three remaining Seasonals combinated! Are you kidding me? Refreshment, man, sweaty glasses fulla Planters Punch and Pimm’s Cup! And Gin! And Tonic! Beer, even. I still haven’t found the best kind of hooch that matches well with Mountain Dew, but I have all Summer to make that discovery!

You lose weight in the Summer because of all the sweating! It’s way easier to smoke outside! There’s more daylight, so you are less Seasonal Light Deprivation Disordered! There’s no serious taxes or politics in the Summer! There’s no school sometimes even if you are a Teacher and even if you are a bonehead and end up in Summer School it’s not that bad, because Summer School is for boneheads so it’s easy!

C’mon, it’s fucking Summer! Let’s go out and get you some!*******

* By my Official Measurements, the season of Summer is Officially 99 days long, stretching from Memorial Day, turning over to get some sun on the other side right around Fourth of July, and then ending on Jerry Lewis Day.

** Which I cannot fucking believe: 1.) Jerry Lewis is quitting the Telethon before he dies, and 2.) the fucking Telethon is only gonna be six hours long.

*** OK, not always a good thing.

**** Not hating on Chile. Just saying Carbon Debits.

***** OK, kinda off-topic, but I went and saw the Jon Spencer Blues explosion a few months ago and it was surprising to see the guy in back at the sound board keeping time with the music and then every once in a while detonating this huge bass drop that is, along with incoherency and theremin breaks, sorta like a trademark of the JSBX.

****** Sing that quotable to the tune of “Summer Breeze,” by Seals & Crofts, but I recommend the Isley Bros. version because it’s even mellower, especially when you are hammered on Summer Breezes.

******* I'm all done with the asterisks. Thank you for reading and have a great fucking Summer, man, seriously. Hey, have two.

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Like Dave Letterman, my Teevee Pal, who musta done some jokes in his “monologue” about this guy and then I saw him talking about Weiner with Rachel Maddow (and the producers basically, I Theorize, in my Opinion, totally cloned her show on Keith Olbermann’s so effing hard she made him feel Not Special, I think, which is a big part of why he left the MSNBC or CNBC—I can never remember which is which—but yeah, support for Rachel Maddow coming on after Keith Olbermann forced Olbermann into doing this live cross-over-handoff chitchat with Rachel Maddow, which totally messed up his gag of throwing a wadded-up ball of paper at the teevee screen to end his show, and he obviously started to hate her guts. I’m serious, man, I bet that really hacked him off, that guy is a Major League Prima Donna, I think, and I’ll totally watch his show on Al Gore’s teevee channel when that happens), but anyway, that time Dave did that bit on his show about messing around with one of his employees, and dude went and put the whole thing into big fucking air-quotes and did bullet points and made it all sound like he was doing the Top Ten where people are supposed to laugh, and he was basically doing the equivalent of those I’m-sorry-if-you-think-you-were-offended deals, only people were kinda laughing because he wasn’t being real, he was being my Teevee Pal Dave Letterman, because that’s the only way he could preserve his show (and American jobs) by telling The Nation he had participated in sexual activity with an employee who was not his wife. Which brings me to another thing about this Weiner guy which is: You don’t know what the deal is with him and his wife. That shit is private, man, his wife didn’t lose her right to be a private person because he hit Enter insteada the DM thing, and if he had Tweetdeck insteada regular Twitter, chances are that shit would not have happened in the first place. I don’t know what people want here, you know?

And then how do you say this Breitbart guy’s name? This is the guy who got some pictures off the Twits? And then the shock-jocks got the picture of the picture? That looks like some shenanigans right there man, to get that shit Out There, eh? Man, does he have people just hunched over screens all day watching errbody’s Tweeters for shit that pops up or did somebody hand it to him? He has that Web site newser dot com, but I don’t look at it because a lot of it is just links to shit from other places. Anyway, I always thought his name was like “bright-bart,” but the snippy announcers on that Right-Wing radio channel I swear were going kinda like “brey-bear,” is that how you say it? I haven’t been listening to them and their Right-Wingedness long enough to determine if maybe they were just being wacky morning personalities and going all Frenchie with his name for funsies. Unless maybe I was hardcore on my toothbrushing at that point and developed Slurred Hearing? There is one of those International Phonetic Alphabet things on the Wikipedia for this guy, and that one makes it look like “brate-bart,” I think, but mostly that IPA always makes me think of beer and then I lose interest in stuff, you know? I knew this one guy who had a name that people had a hard time figuring out and he put a little audio file on his dot com, but I forget where that is.

Meanwhile, I ain’t gonna lie, I think it’s funny when the word WEINER is in like 3,000-point type on the front page of the New York Post, and the Daily News has been getting its ass kicked in the WOOD WAR on this one going with various turns on PUTZ and SCHMUCK. C’mon Daily News, let’s get some WEINER WAR going here while there’s time, huh?

I don’t think I need to say anything about Anthony Weiner and the Bad Things he has done because errbody else is all over that shit, you know? So it’s like unless you got Real News or Jokes for the front page of the New York Post, you should just keep on Twitter where it started.

Previously: This New Food Pyramid is a Plate! And Also a Scam

Mr. Wrong can converse with you via many medias.

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Do you see what they are doing with this food plate? It’s exactly like they did with the cigarettes.

For years it was all good and everybody smoked their smokes and got Cancer and died and nobody complained, some cigarette companies came up with ones that would smooth out your Smoker’s Hack and stuff, but it wasn’t like you were sick from ‘em or anything serious, just a little dry throat, but then they started saying that cigarettes were Bad For You and the Big Tobaccos generally deny, deny, denied all the Scientific Evidence until Russell Crowe narced on ‘em in that movie about "60 Minutes" with Al Pacino. The Insider, it was called, and it was a great movie if you like your Russell Crowe all grey and sweaty yakking it up on the phone talking about paperwork to Al Pacino on a beach with a giant antenna sticking out his cellie. There’s gonna be a movie called The Even More Insiderer-Insider about the lawsuits from all the Brain Cancer errbody gets from all these fucking cell phones, seriously. Also I am gonna produce a play called "Al Pacino On A Beach" and it won’t have any actors, it will feature a different audience member reading the script every night doing that Al Pacino impression all humans have within them.

Anyway, then there were all these years of bullshit where none of the Tobacconists would tell the truth and then there were these lawsuits which were basically the cigarette companies paying out piles of dough to The Lawyers in exchange for getting away with cigarettes being the reason tons of people died from Cancer and then not being responsible for anybody else dying from Cancer because there are now giant labels on cigarettes that say SERIOUSLY THESE THINGS WILL KILL YOU only in more bullshitty ellipticals like QUITTING SMOKING NOW GREATLY INCREASES YOUR RISK OF NOT DYING FROM CONTINUING TO HOOVE ON THESE FUCKERS, REALLY MAN.

So with this Food Plate, anybody who pays the teensy-weensiest bit of attention to what is “good” food knows you need to eat a certain no-fun way, and now it’s official; They will be keeping score. If you want to get some Government Health Care, the Government is gonna look at what’s on your plate, and there’s gonna be a sliding scale, man, if you ate a lot of Beefaroni, you are gonna have to get a Lawyer to argue in some Claims Appeal thing that you didn’t get whatever you got because of Chef Boyardee, you know? Meanwhile, what happened to Chef Boyardee cheese raviolis? Seriously, you try to eat just the slightest bit on the healthy side with this shit and they discontinue the product, I swear, they got it on Amazon, but c’mon, you gonna buy cheese ravioli off Amazon? It’s kinda embarrassing. I don’t get it, what’s the deal, Boyardee? Why are you denying the cheese? And don’t tell me to eat that “Whole Grain” stuff you’ve been making, I tried one of those “Whole Grain” Beefaronii and it was nasty. And I eat Beefaroni, so that will give you an idea of how nasty it was if an avowed Beefaroni Enthusiast can’t choke it down, you know?

Look, I’m all for making health care available to everybody and more affordable and cutting out the middleman and replacing the middleman with a new middleman, but you need to wake up and smell the ‘roni if you don’t think this new Plate deal isn’t just another way to get us (as in U.S.) in line for another milking before taxes. Meanwhile they got 12 tacos for ten bucks at Taco Bell. You can stick that on your new Food Plate and see what happens. I’m just gonna eat it outta the box and then take a nap.

Mr. Wrong can instruct you via many medias.

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Most of the time he sounds like he just got up after an all-night cigarette bender to take questions and he’s getting ready to bust out a classic phlegm-hack-before-hitting-that-half-smoked-butt-left-over-from-last-night-you’re-feeling-around-for-on-the-nightstand, but I don’t even know if the guy ever even smoked a single cigarette in his life, except when you hear his voice it’s like, “whoa, Marlboro? Pall Mall? Chesterfield? Merit?” Is it even against the Bible to smoke? I mean, was smoking even invented when Jesus was around? Mister Harold could totally be a two-pack-a-day man, and guess what, it doesn’t matter what happens to his Corporeal Form, because he says the shit that is gonna jump off on May 21 will take care of Everything, and everybody who doesn’t Believe is gonna get wiped out, and all the people who do Believe are gonna experience “The Rapture,” which I can never read or hear without having that Blondie song go off in my head with Fab Five Freddie and stuff, so I’m totally doomed with my Unbelieving, and look, this Camping guy has been talking about this shit for years, and he’s moved the dates around a coupla times because of his “calculations” and whatever, and I fully expect him to have some sorta explanation about what happened when I tune in on Monday night on my way home from my job, and it’s all a lot of bullshit, hocus-pocus, etc., Religion is for Weak Minds that need a crutch, blah, blah, but still, hey, who knows, right? You don’t know.

I mean, you know, but this isn’t something you can prove either way until something Happens, right? If nothing happens you still don’t know, really, and that is how Religion works. Plus, Personally, I am a li’l bit scared, because I haven’t done any of the Requirements that will get me Raptured, you know? I have done Other stuff that puts me in the “Do Not Resuscitate” Category, immortal-soul-wise, so the best I could get would be an “Easter-Catholic” Rapturer if They would let me, just to see what’s gonna happen, if anything is gonna happen, which I don’t think it will, but still, you know? See how I keep ending up on both sides of this thing? This is my Problem. Didn’t Benjamin Franklin give money to all the Religions just in case? He wasn’t a dummy, he even got his face printed on the best money, the Hundred, and he never even was a President of The United States of America, you know? I wonder where he is now.

So Monday morning I am possibly gonna turn into some dust or suffer some sorta Punishment, and I gotta be OK with that, because I just can’t get it together enough to Believe Completely, you know? But then I think, fuck, if all of the people who Believe this shit are the only ones who are gonna be left, it’s gonna be totally boring wherever we all end up, I mean, think about all the Fun Things that wouldn’t be around if this whole thing pans out, and then if you somehow slide past the Inspection and find out it totally sucks and you want to leave?

Hey, what would be really cool would be if They got to go be all Perfect wherever that is, with their Rapture thing, and then left the rest of us here? I know, even less likely. All I’m saying is maybe there’s a Partial Credit? For example, I’m not paying my car insurance early because of this whole thing. It’s due on the 22nd, and I would normally pay it a coupla days ahead of time, but this time I’m gonna wait until after the 21st, just in case, you know? I mean, you don’t know.

Mr. Wrong can instruct you via many medias.

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Anyway, it is around this time of year when all the graduates and graduatresses come down out of their Academic haze and ask themselves for the last time (or maybe the first time) if they Really “enjoyed” college: “What lies ahead? Will we have rainbows every day? How did I let my roomie talking me into wearing just my underpants under my rented Graduation gown?”

And look, I’m not saying I am an Expert Authority or Preeminent in a Field, I’m just saying one time I went to somebody’s graduation thing and they had the guy who played Rhoda’s dad on that teevee show "Rhoda," with Valerie Harper, which was a spinoff of "The Mary Tyler Moore Show" and had this guy who always did a really funny voice-only bit as “This is Carlton your doorman,” and he would talk to Rhoda over the intercom of her apartment, Lorenzo Music was the guy’s name, and he was also the voice of Garfield from the comics on some cartoons, but then they got Bill Murray for the Garfield movie because I guess the Carlton guy died, but anyway, Harold Gould was the commencement speaker to a bunch of graduates, so no offense to Harold Gould, but just saying, really, I’m not being a showoff or anything when I say I can do this, and I can’t remember a fucking word that Gould guy said, no offense, in his speech. I guess he opened with a joke, because you are always supposed to open with a joke to get the crowd loosened up or something, but like they say, man, the joke’s in your hand, and it’s got D-I-P-L-O-M-A scrivened upon it, and it cost somebody a lotta money, and now Baby Bird, you are supposed to flap your golden tassels and fly away into The Future, won’t you?

I also remember he was in the movie The Sting, staring Paul Newman and Robert Redford. Harold Gould, I’m talking about. He played a guy called “The Green Hornet” or something; in one scene a hooker was like “Hi Horney!” I think he also got a "Cold Case" and a "Nip/Tuck," and he was definitely in the last version of Freaky Friday, so there’s a connect to Lindsay Lohans for you kids. Now they are calling her “Linnocent," that’s a good one, yeah, this one blog is like "She's drunk and braless,” which brings me back to the assembled graduates, right? Hiyo. Anyway, look man, Robert Redford, wow, he is really looking craggy these days, eh? I haven’t seen that movie he did about Abraham Lincoln’s mistress or whatever but I’ll definitely check it out on my Netflix.

OK, look, they set up these Commencement Speakers to stand up here and basically tell you what it’s like to be an Adult, and right away, you should be asking for a Partial Refund on your financial aid because like what the fuck have you been doing here in College, right? You take my dough for two-to-seven years and then you have some clown up here giving me The Speech to send me on my way? It’s bullshit, right? But really, the whole reason most of you even went to College is because you didn’t know what to do, I mean Linnocent Lohan didn’t get any College and she’s a success, seriously, because she is Out There getting it Done. She gets paid to be Out There, that is her Industry. A lot of you were like, “Well, I don't know what to do, so I guess I will keep going to school until I figure that out,” and if that’s the case, then just go to school some more right away and then go Pro, right? Professional Schooler, whatever, Scholar, I know the word, be quiet, I get Paid to be up here talking, so just be quiet.

Let me give you a little bit on what it is to be an Adult who Graduated from stuff. Here’s how I start my day—better yet, here’s how I start my night, I brush my teeth, and look, if there’s anything you punks “take away” from this lecture today, please do not let me underscore the importance of good Dental Hygiene. Maintaining Good Dental Health is one of the things that sets us (as in, U.S.) apart from many other Nations of the World. I’m not saying we’re perfect or anything, I voted Democrat last time so I know what’s going on with the rest of the Planet, I’m just saying have you looked on Google for the thing with brushing your teeth on the regular and Heart Attacks and stuff? It’s right there, you don’t need College for this one, it’s like, if you don’t clean your teeth, all that garbage that passes over 'em on the way to your Digestive Tract and, ultimately, Your Bloodstream, all that food and a lot of other stuff that really isn’t food, if you know what I mean, all that stuff leaves trails in your mouth, man, sediment or whatever, and that crap builds up on your teeth and beneath—down below your gumline, and you can forget Terrorism, man, because Below The Gumline, that’s where the true Enemy is, you gotta keep the Theater of Operations known as Your Mouth spic and span, boys and girls, I am not kidding about this, you think this is some sorta Tangent, like I’m veering off the Prepared Remarks, but I am totally on point with this message, serious as a Heart Attack: keep those choppers clean, that’s where the true Enemy is, man. You gotta keep the Theater of Perations known as your Mouth spic and motherfucking span, ladies and gentls, I am not kidding about this. I am as serious as a heart attack, keep those choppers clean.

And if the toofuses are clean, generally you will have good breath, and Out Here in the day-to-day? It’s all about your breath, and that goes a long way in that Job Interview, do you understand what I am saying here, Young Men and Women of the America? Yeah, they talk about how if you are good looking you get a lotta things in Life handed to you, but I am here as a Paid Representative of what is Real, and I don’t care how hot you are, if you have the Dragon dwelling back there in your speak-hole, Halitosis, whatever you wanna call it, Stank Bref, The 'zacklys, if you have that going on, nobody will be hiring you any time soon, except maybe for some Customer Assistance Help Desk Line stuff on the phone maybe, and you better hope they have individual headsets because if you’re on a regular phone, whoever comes on shift after you is going to bitch about how the instrument smells, please listen to me on this.

So anyway, after I brush my teeth I knock down three or four of those ROLAIDS-TUMS-type antacids because I have the Acid Reflux, but I have a handle on it, I got the prescription stuff that inhibits my Proton Pump or some bizarro Science Fiction thing like that but I just do this to make sure, because I tend to eat late after the bars close, you know? OK, so you will be working in Food Service, this is what I’m trying to get to, don't be afraid of it, and don't give me that crap about how can you work in Food Service if you hate People, that’s where all the really good maître d’hôtels come from, seriously, you have to have genuine Contempt for human beings to be a good maître d’, and if you’re going to be a waiter, don’t be a friendly waiter, think about this because they did not teach you this in your stupid-ass College, people don’t tip their friends as much as they tip strangers, be a pro, keep your distance, focus on Customer Service, pay attention to keeping my water glass filled at the table because I am dealing with this Acid Reflux like a lot of other Americans, nobody’s paying attention to the depletion of our Precious Bodily Fluids, there’s too much soda pop and coffee and booze and stuff and it’s fucking up our electrolytes and corroding the National Stomach, so when you see me at your table at the restaurant where you will soon be employed, just top off that fucking water glass and we’re straight. Thank you.

Mr. Wrong can instruct you via many medias.

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I'm not fucking kidding around here, man, Super Bowl does not care if you are Jew or Gentile, Protestant or Catholic, or any of the other ones, like Cthulhu or whatever. Freedom of Religion, Freedom from Religion. Super Bowl does not care what Race or National Origin you Believe your origins to be Originated of. From. Super Bowl does not care what taste of the Sex Rainbow you are pleased to enjoy, as long as it does not occur on TV during Super Bowl, in this case XLIV in Roman Numerals, which is like, Educational and stuff, see? Super Bowl just wants you in the swirl.

Furthermore, Super Bowl color est e pluribus unus ^[1], if you will. Super Bowl does not care if you want Super Bowl, because it is almost impossible to not in some way be part of Super Bowl on-or-off-TV programming or the so-called counter-programming, Anti-Super-Bowlwise. It's like, somewhere Out There, on Cable Teevee someplace, there's gonna be derivative stuff like the "Puppy Bowl" or whatever they call it with all the cute puppies bumping around in a pen, and they used to have a "Lingerie Bowl" with ladies in underwear playing or at least pretending to be playing football. I'm pretty sure you don't need a Men's "Lingerie Bowl" because that pretty much just takes you back to Super Bowl, right?

There will also be some sorta "marathon" of something that is Specifically Designed To Interest people who Do Not Want or even Understand or even Want To Understand what is: Super Bowl. There's even Church and stuff for a lot of people, and Video Games and Movie Theaters, and Shopping, and all this shit is just like, the Loyal Opposition, because it's all effecting an extra kick in the be-hind to The Economies, Stimulus-wise, on account of the magnetic/repulsion effect of Super Bowl. Hey, you could even purchase and read one of those Electronic-Kindling books while you watch Super Bowl! Arrrooo! Plus: One Nation Under Snacks. I'm gonna make two kinds of chili. There's lotsa Bowl jokes around Super Bowl time.

Super Bowl falls on the Just and the Unjust. I mean, have you seen this "Scripps Howard Celebrity Super Bowl Poll" where celebrities or whoever handles their email are picking between New Orleans and Indianapolis? There's celebrity names like Phyllis Diller, Hulk Hogan, Penn & Teller, Pat (Big fucking surprise he picks not-New Orleans) Robertson, that boob Rod Blagojevich, John McCain, Apolo Ohno, Kobe Bryant, Mike Hayden (a former CIA director), Serena Williams, Larry King, and Maya fucking Angelou making Super Bowl predictions. Maya Angelou writes Books, man.

Before "The Big Game" (which is the name used by anybody who wants to do a Super Bowl event but doesn't want to deal with the National Football League stepping on their neck on account of Trademarks and Copyrights and shit), there's a four-hour "pre-game" show (which is when people who like to get shitfaced drunk at Super Bowl viewings begin the process of shitfacing) and there's Sports Guys going blah blah blah Football, blah, blah, and there's gonna be an interview with this guy Plaxico Burress, a pro football player who shot himself in the leg by accident and then got locked up for having the fucking gun. He's getting interviewed from Jail, that's how big this fucking Super Bowl is, man. Biggest Gang in America? NFL. They can fucking reach right into Prison to get what they want. Also in pregame is The President Of The United States of America, for real, he's part of the runup to Super Bowl XLIV, seriously, Katie Couric's gonna do a routine with POTUS XLIV, then you got America-Inc.-Military-Industrial-Complex all over this piece, probably a few satellite feeds from Afghanistan and Iraq, and when the game gets going there will be a colorguard of troops presenting the Flag and then some sorta ritualistic Display of The Militaristic Might of The United States of America, usually manifesting as a "flyover" of ass-kicking War airplanes cracking the sky over whatever modern-day Colosseum America is spectating Super Bowl at (some Bowl in Miami, I think), and I bet it's totally an Experience to go to there, but that's not even really the Place To Be, because errbody knows it's way more Intense to watch Football on TV with all the replays and slow-motions and stuff, but Super Bowl doesn't give a flying football if you understand The Game or anything else, because Super Bowl is not Football. Super Bowl is America sitting on ass in front of the teevee, watching Commercials and getting confused about the point spread (the Other reason Super Bowl jams economy), knowing Right This Minute we (as in US) have people in submarines cruising around ready to launch Atomic Missiles at The Enemy.

The Enemy doesn't get much Super Bowl, man. The Enemy is dug in too deep or moving too fast. The Enemy has only two ways home: death, or victory, but that shit's not mutually exclusive, get it?
That's mostly why I enjoy Super Bowl, knowing at Half Time, while some totally effed-out rock band (or Who's left) is lined up to Get Paid playing a fucking medley of their Greatest Hits under a dirigible, The Enemy is looking right at us, looking right at Super Bowl. Arrrooo! Saints cover the spread.

Footnote 1: ‘One from Many,' was taken from, of all places, a recipe for salad in an early poem by Virgil.

Joe MacLeod is really busy keeping track of the snow.

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99% of the people I bestow a "Happy The Holidays" upon are total fucking Strangers, right? How the fuck should I know which The Holidays they do, you know?

I mean, the other day I was on the phone with my Credit Card and I was talking to somebody who sounded like they were at least recently from India or something, and she was nice, and after she told me that if I paid The Money tomorrow, right to the Bank, the phone calls would stop, she said to me to have a good rest of the day and Happy Holidays, so I said back to her, hey, you too, and I know she's working off a Script and shit, but now I gotta Return the Serve as sort of a simple required-politeness, and I totally meant mine. Brighten the fucking corner where you live, OK?

All I know about the phone-lady is what I could Profile from being on the phone. I used to ask phone-people where they were working, just because I am Interested in what the weather is like in other places Right This Minute and also, for some reason, I think it's cool to be talking on the telephone to somebody really Far Away, you know? But then I heard that people would yell and scream at phone-collectors and abuse the shit out of them for being Foreigners, so I stopped asking and would instead concentrate on not cursing, but based on my past experiences, usually the people I deal with on the phone are in India, or Utah, or someplace that becomes interesting to me simply because it is Far Away. But I'm not really interested in Utah.

I'm not mad because somebody in fucking Bangalore has a job, you know? Especially a job of calling people on the phone to remind them they're broke, right? So I figure I got wished a Happy The Holidays by somebody who doesn't do any of my The Holidays, but why overthink this shit? Just because it is my tradition to do Santa-Claus-Jesus doesn't mean I gotta burn any calories wondering if the person who wishes me Happy The Holidays does what I do or does what They do, you know? You fucking wish me some Happy The Holidays and I will wish you that shit right back, and mean it. I will not get Offended because maybe you don't mean Santa-Jesus. I don't care if you Believe in any of that shit, and not just because I don't (Believe in things), but because Santa and Jesus do, and They would not get their respective vestments in a bunch because they thought somebody didn't do them, see?

Also, I usually put "Xmas" just because "X" is a cool letter, and technically I heard the Greeks or somebody would use the "X" as shorthand for Santa Claus, so Merry Xmas, as well, OK? And I totally don't even worry about saying Merry Fucking Christmas to somebody who doesn't make Xmas, OK? It is a Positive Salutation, period. When I say "Happy The Holidays," I mean Happy Your The Holidays, and when you "Happy The Holidays" on me, I process that as my The Holidays. Enjoy you The Holidays!

Anyway, I have frequently enjoyed my The Holidays many times, but I am not really feeling very The Holidays at this point in our trip around the Sun. I mean, if I still have a job when the The Holidays I get a day off for come around, I will totally enjoy my Day Off With Pay and all attending Rights and Privileges, but basically I am broke, and as an American, I realize a lot of Our (as in U.S.) The Holidays are money-centric and good for The Economy, and that totally irks my ass because the Rich People are totally fucking not doing what they are supposed to, to wit; Buying Lots Of Shit for the Economy and to give that shit away in the Spirit of The Holidays, as opposed to The Man mind-controlling broke-ass people into being whipped up by Bargains and shit and getting them to line up at the stores at 4 a.m. in the fucking o'clock of the morning. Have you seen this shit? What kind of proof do any Conspiracy Theorists need that We are being run by The Man? The goddamn fucking teevee news runs all these bits on fucking Holiday Shopping, for fuck's sake. Look at all the bargain-hunters! Fucking lemmings! Stop trying to make me feel Bad about not buying anybody anything for Xmas, OK? I'm broke. And Rich People, those stupid fucking Lexus ads with the big bow on top of the car? Those ads are for you guys. Don't feel like you're limited to buying a Lexus, just please to go ahead and buy a whole bunch of cars and give 'em away as gifts, OK? It will be good for The Economy.

I'm also not very The Holidays-feeling because I put a grand into my Health thing at my job where you put the money ahead of time and then spend it on your Medical Health and then the Health Insurance kicks you back the money and you somehow avoid paying taxes on it, I think. I don't know. I just went for it, because at work they said it was a Good Idea, but I had a good time living my life this year and didn't want to spend any time hanging out where a lot of Sick People are (no offense) so now I don't think I have enough time left this year to go to the Dentist (which I should go to because I re-chipped the tooth I chipped on a fucking beer bottle) or Podiatrist (which I should go to because I need a new pair of things for my shoes because I have the High Arches) or whatever, and pay for it, and then get it kicked back to me. Also, I am fucking broke, so I would have to pay for the Eye Doctor (which I should go to because I have blurry eyes) or the Dermatologist (which I should also go to because I think I have a thing on my leg) before I could get the money kicked back to me, and the only way I could do that right now is to use a fucking credit card, which I think defeats the purpose of stashing money ahead of time so I could save on taxes. My head hurts thinking about this shit. Next year I'm not putting any money into that deal, seriously, I'll just pay fucking taxes on my Wages and then spend the money. On The Holidays.

Previously: Hate School, or BARACK HUSSEIN OBAMAPOTUS

Mr. Wrong appears every three weeks or so in the Baltimore City Paper, which is not frequently enough, hence he is here. He is also here and here.

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hate school – presdient addressing children about school
support post office – get credit card company to mail you bill

Yeah, "presdient," it's fucking notes, OK?

I hate taking notes because it reminds me of School. I don't think I'm going to get to the whole Post Office thing, but basically I heard the Post Office is in trouble because there's less Mail, so it might be good for The Economy if we all canceled the "paperless" option on all our bills and credit cards and shit and got some US Mail going? I mean, fuck the fucking Credit Card company bloodsuckers, what the fuck am I doing worrying about saving them a fucking stamp, right? Plus, sometimes I forget to pay my fucking bills because they are on my Computer, so maybe if I start getting Mail again I'll be more prompt? Maybe? There is also a separate issue involving Money, but remembering to pay the bills on time would be a start, and I think the stuff with saving trees and the Ecology is overrated. Isn't everything recycled now?

I guess I made a note about School because it's September and that's Back To School time, which I think is just awful, School. I don't even know why I hadda write down "hate school" as a note since every morning (or afternoon, or evening) I wake up, I'm like the guy in the Major Motion Picture Jerry Maguire, starring Tom Cruise and also Renee Zellweger, who somehow has a fat face or always looks like she just tasted something sour, right? I thought she was okay in those "Bridget Jones" movies but this Jerry Maguire was just awful, I know, news flash, way to take a stand, controversy. Anyway, I'm like that guy in the Jerry Maguire who wakes up and claps his hands and then I think he says some sorta Positive Affirmation or something, I don't remember. Boy, that movie totally fucking sucked it. Anyway again, that guy, who claps his hands and is all get-up-and-go, is bigshot movie director the late Billy Wilder, but it's not his fault about the movie or the fact I can't get to what I think when I regain consciousness every day or so, to wit:

I don't have to go to school today.

Seriously, man, for ever.

It's like fucking Christmas and a Snow Day and first day of Summer Vacation for me almost ever day, I'm not kidding. Going to the shittiest day of the shittiest job is absolutely a holiday for me compared to going to fucking School. I can't explain how much I hate school. I can't peck-type words for that. I could scream it, but I can't explain it. I don't even like looking at a school. I don't even like movies with the word "school" in 'em, like School of Rock, and I fucking love movies, man. Although
Back To School starring Rodney Dangerfield was pretty funny, but I really fucking hate school. I guess that's why I never get any response to my annual solicitation for speaking at Graduation Ceremonies, eh? Even though I'm like, a College Graduate and everything.

I don't know why I hate school. I don't even like to think about school, except to remind errbody how I do not enjoy it, but this Obama thing, where he talked to The Children of School all about like, I dunno, what did he even talk about? Was it like "School is Good, don't fuck up," that kinda thing, like "Please Learn Things and Be Smart, we don't need any more fucking football players, OK? We need some fucking Scientists to get us outta this shit, c'mon, we need to invent stuff, not make more stupid movies about going to Fame School to be Famous, are you kidding? They're remaking Fame? There's no fucking ideas left? Look, study hard and be a fucking Doctor or something useful, OK? Thank you, Single Payer Public Option Health Care and God Bless The United States of America, which half of you goddamn fucking little dunces probably couldn't even point out on a map, for fuck's sake, but I'm betting that one's on the Teachers. Thank you. Class dismissed. Health Care."

I didn't have any problem with it, POTUS Obama talking to The Children. OBAMAPOTUS. And Kanye West is a fucking jackass, so what's the big deal, right? And so what if he's going on Letterman, the POTUSOBAMA, he's the fucking President Of The United States Of America, and he is also The President Of Television, OK? I fucking voted for him. Anyway, this whole Talking To The Children In School thing was, of course, somewhat unpleasant for me because it made my brain think of School, but as it thought about being in School, my brain was all like if I was in School, it would be perfectly OK by me to listen to somebody blah blah blah-ing about some shit I wouldn't have to Pay Attention to, unless there was some fucking asshole teacher who was like "OK, The Leader of The Free World is going to talk directly to You, The Children, who are The Future, so after Mr. President speaks we're gonna have a quiz," or some bullshit like that, Jesus H-for-Hussein Christ almighty, are you kidding?" I hope that didn't happen, because it might create some bad associations for The Children, you know? But whatever, fuck them, not my fucking problem. I'm just glad I don't have to go to School tomorrow.

Previously: Coffee Talk

Mr. Wrong appears every three weeks or so in the Baltimore City Paper, which is not frequently enough, hence he is here. He is also here.

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You fucking look at me over the top of your laptop all you want, and make that little move where you're like "hmm, I better close my laptop a li'l bit so this asshole can see he is Disturbing me and I might have to go to another table," and I will raise my coffee cup up and fucking cheers you like I have No Fucking Idea why you are eye-fucking me so hard and I will just continue to look at you. Because I want to make you talk, motherfucker. Mwahaa! Cheers! Coffee! Talk to me so then we can have a Conversation about who is Breaking the fucking Law or whatever because they decided to go to a coffee shop with a fucking NEWSPAPER and talk about Current Events and shit or with a LAPTOP and retreat into the Cone of iPod. We can talk over some delicious coffee! C'mon, close that laptop, let's have, like, a General Foods International Coffee Moment, only without drinking that shit because its basically like the coffee version of TANG, the shit they made the Astronbauts drink before they discovered Nutrition.

And another thing, just because you brought your laptop as your date to the coffee shop doesn't mean you get to hog a whole table, OK? If I come in with a human companion and there's no suitable place for us to lay our cups, we're sitting with you at "your" fucking table, OK, lapster? Yeah, that's how they do in Europe or something, they share tables and get all jacked up on coffee and orange juice and discuss shit like the fucking Postage, right? Stamps? "Franking" or whatever? When's the last time you mailed a letter?

Still, I gotta mail something (usually a Parking Fine, because I refuse to let those fuckers steal another $3.95 or whatever outta my Virtual Wallet just to make the transaction over the Internet) and it's like wait, how much is a stamp? $3 cents? 47 cents? Can't we just get it up to 50 or a buck? I mean, you can send a piece of paper thousands of miles for under a dollar, it's a deal if it's 50 cents instead of 49 or whatever's a fucking stamp is, right? See? Why you wanna stare at that lappie when you can engage in Stimulating Discourse such as this, eh? If you really wanted to work you would work in your house or your job, if you have one. I mean work at what you want to do, like you're trying to do in this coffee shop, not your job, you know? I mean, no offense to your job but you know you can do that shit in like three days elapsed time, right? Yeah!

Or hey, have you heard this one? We're "pulling out of the Global Recession," har! Apparently the Global Recession has Recessed in Japan or something, and since they are a day ahead of us, as in U.S. that means it's sunny days ahead, har! I hope my week of Furlough helped my job Win the Recession, right? Man, they're all like "well the Underemployment is now Nine Point Five Percent, and that's good because we thought it was going to be Nine Point Seven Percent, blah blah..." C'mon, let's call it Ten Fucking Percent, and just look around in this coffee shop, you know? Right here, man, Coffee Achievers. Remember that shit, "Coffee Achievers?" Man, David Bowie is an Luxus Whore, eh? See, we're doing some what, Dialogue or something, learning from each other or something? No? C'mon, how about this one, man: "Death Panels." Where'd that fucking come from, huh? Oh, her? The fucking Quitter? Well, she can quit on that too if she wants, but look, I basically have no problem calling 'em Death Panels if that's what They wanna call 'em, as long as we can Talk about it before I get too feebed-out to sign anything, umkay? My signature is spidery enough, but if it looks like I'm trying to copy the line on the Heart Monitor, take the fucking pen away from me, OK? Seriously, if I didn't sign some shit that says DO NOT RESCUE-CESSITATE or whatever, then you need to hook my ass up to the next thing smokin' you feel? I'm not Quitting! I'm hangin' on, man! I saw something when I went down the Tunnel of Light! Keep my shit plugged in! Intravenous me some coffee!

Previously: Cash for Clunker

Mr. Wrong appears every three weeks or so in the Baltimore City Paper, which is not frequently enough, hence he is here. He is also here.

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